Rowan rolled to glance up so he could see how far up the water went, and was amazed to think about how much rain it had taken to fill this reservoir. “Where’d all the water go?”
“About the time of the height of the Maya civilization, it was believed there was a terrible drought,” he said. “There is still much debate about if that was what caused the Maya to abandon the region and go north from Chichén Itzá to invade into the Aztec regions. It’s possible that wars were fought for water.”
“And there were wars, right?”
“Exactly,” Enrique said. “The Maya would sacrifice their captives. The higher the rank, the more likely the gods were to be pleased with the sacrifice.”
“So they’d bring their captives down here and behead them, and leave the bodies for the gods,” it was less of a question, and more of a statement. “Gross and very disturbing,” Rowan retorted.
“That’s why I thought you’d like this place,” the professor said. “There’s one more thing I want you to see.”
The cavern was massive. They crossed over to a pillar of stone off to one side. It looked like it might have been a large stalagmite at one point, but a huge chunk had sheared off and lay at the bottom of the cavern. Rowan fell in behind his dive partner as they worked their way up through the cenote. Rowan checked his dive computer on his wrist, then his oxygen gage. They were reaching the end of their dive time and would need to start their final assent soon.
As they came around the fallen pillar, it became apparent what Enrique had brought him here to see. It was a massive stone carving that was set in the side of the cenote wall. The sun beaming on it gave it an ethereal glow but didn’t illuminate the entire circular carving. “Oh my gosh! That’s amazing!”
“This is a recounting of the history of the reign of the Jaguar Queen,” he said. “See the glyph here at the middle, that’s the same as the glyph on the pillar at Chichén Itzá.”
“The parachute.” Rowan moved in to study it closer.
“Yes,” Enrique said. “This tells of her fall from a burning disc in the heavens, and of her many powers. They called her a fire goddess when she came to live among the holy people of the Temple. Her arrival emboldened the Jaguar King, and he took it as an omen ... a sign of the gods’ blessing. So he attacked a neighboring city, and here it says the streets flowed with the blood of their enemies. His victory brought him much power, and he claimed his seat upon the throne. He also had a right to any prize he desired, so he took her to wife, to be his queen. His prosperity lasted for decades.”
“That is amazing.” Rowan couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Jean-René to Rowan.” The radio squelched in his earpiece.
“Go for Rowan,” he answered.
“Your air should be getting low. Are you on your way up?”
“Yeah,” Rowan nodded, signaling Enrique to head up. Rowan turned the camera back on the carving. He made sure he got a good shot of each symbol, before falling in behind the professor and heading back to the surface.
* * *
It was near dawn when they returned to their rooms in Mérida. After a few hours of sleep, Rowan and Enrique celebrated their successful dive with another night at the bar, this time with Mexican beer. The following morning, Rowan was sitting in the lobby with his sunglasses on. His head was throbbing when the rest of the team came back from the hotel restaurant where they’d had breakfast.
“Damn, Rowan,” Jean-René said. He could laugh. He’d gone to bed early. “You look like death warmed over.”
Rowan glared at him through the shaded lenses. His head hurt too badly to even bother with flipping him off. But a profanity-laced swear seemed appropriate for the moment.
“Cranky much?” Alejandro sneered. He’d come down for a couple of beers, but he hadn’t stayed long.
“Just remind me never to take part in pesos cervasas night ever again,” he groaned.
“What’s on the schedule today?” Dr. Rick asked. He looked far too chipper for Rowan’s taste.
“Ground penetrating radar and metal detectors,” Jean-René said. Rowan could feel himself turn green; his stomach churning. He looked for a flowerpot or trashcan to puke in.
“Excellent,” Enrique said. He caught Rowan by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. “How are you today, my friend?”
Rowan raised a finger to him, his eyes spinning in his head. “You... are not my friend.” He fought to keep his stomach contents down. “Not my friend.”
“Tecate is not your friend, mi amigo.” Enrique observed. “Neither is Corona, nor Dos Equis.”
“I am going to throw up in your shoe.” Rowan promised. “Maybe not right now, but sometime today. I will. I will puke in your shoe. I swear it.”
“Now, now, now,” Enrique feigned indignation. “That is no way to talk to your best friend.”
“You are not my friend.”
“Give me the keys,” Alejandro said. “I’ll drive today.”
Rowan fumbled in his pocket. He handed over the keys. He was in no shape to drive, and he knew it. “Don’t hit any potholes.”
“Don’t puke in my shoe.” Alejandro retorted.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Rowan to live up to his promise. Alejandro’s shoes were safe, but Enrique was glad he’d left a second pair of boots in Rowan’s Jeep. By the time the ground penetrating radar was assembled and ready to run, Rowan had gotten the worst of it out of his system and was ready, more, or less, to go to work.
“What is today?” he asked, as he calibrated the computer on the GPR.
“December 20th,” Jean-René said. “Tomorrow is the end of the world.”
“Did you notice how the sun in the cenote hit the disc yesterday?” Dr. Rick asked. Rowan nodded. “Tomorrow, the sun will be perfectly aligned with that carving. That is no accident. The Maya were amazing astronomers. They knew exactly what they were doing.”
“So where are we going to scan today?” Jean-René asked.
“I want to go back up to the standing stones. I’m just not sure this thing will fit down the narrow path,” Rowan said. The GPR was a series of tubes and wires that made a large grid. It took two men to carry it and when it was in use, it had to be carried flat, making it roughly 4’ wide and 6’ long. It weighed every bit of 50 pounds.
“I think it will work,” Alejandro said. “The path was wide enough to walk two abreast most of the way ... just a few narrow spots. We can tilt it to get through.”
“Then let’s go,” Rowan said.
Of course, he let Jean-René and Alejandro do all the work. He was sucking down water like there wasn’t going to be any more, and he was still nauseated most of the day. By the time they were set up at the circle of stones, the clouds had returned, and a light mist fell.
“Did anyone see the forecast for the day?”
“Partly cloudy with a chance of Apocalypse.” Enrique snorted. He was in rare form and quite pleased with himself.
* * *
Over dinner, the team sat down and discussed their plans for the end of the world. “So tonight is the last night of the Maya calendar.” Rowan wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t already know. “I think we need to stay and do an overnight investigation.”
“Where do you want to focus?” Alejandro asked.
“I’d like to start at El Castillo,” Rowan said. “I think the Observatory is also worth dedicating some time.”
“That might be the place to be at sunrise,” Enrique suggested.
“I’d also like to go back up to the standing circle of stones and do some isolated EVP sessions,” Rowan said. “I get the chills every time I enter that circle, and I think there might be something there.”
“We’ve got approximately two square miles to investigate,” Jean-René said. “We could check out some of the other ruins we haven’t had a chance to visit yet.”
“Okay,” Rowan said. “It’s about five p.m. now. We have a couple hours of daylight left so
we need to get our equipment checked, and maybe catch a quick nap. Then we need to be ready to get cameras rolling no later than say 9:00. Let’s hope the weather holds up, or we could be soaked by morning.”
“I packed the rain gear,” Jean-René said. “It’s in the Jeep if we need it.”
* * *
Lauren’s fever raged through another night and into the day. The doctors ordered more tests, and changed the antibiotics, pushed fluids, and continued to monitor her baby, which seemed to suffer no ill-effects from its mother’s fever. Contractions were effectively controlled, and she floated in and out of delirium as the fury burned. Bahati kept a constant vigil, mopping her brow and coaxing her to sip water from a straw in the fleeting moments she was lucid.
Lauren was aware of her plight but also aware of her presence in the world of shadows. She could feel the heat of the bonfire on her face and stood watching the ritual taking place before her. The priests chanted ancient words that were strangely familiar to her. The fever seemed to be making it harder to understand. The knowledge of the ancient All-language seemed dulled. Still, she knew what was happening.
Lauren dreamt of Tsul’Kalu. The old shaman sat before the fire. He had his eyes closed. The wrinkles around his eyes drew heavily downward as the flickering flames illuminated his face. Lauren sat beside him, cross-legged and bowed respectfully. She waited until he spoke. “There was a woman who slipped through the threads of time-and-being long ago. She was lost to memory. She became known to an ancient race. They recognized her crown of stars and placed her on their throne and named her their queen. There were many years of prosperity under her reign, but then the white-eyes came to steal her away. War came to the lands of these people. Prosperity came with war because it meant blood. Blood to be spilled for the Gods. And when the enemy was vanquished, the woman was exalted, and her name was carved into stone so that she might be remembered forever.” Lauren could see the images of the story play out in the fire. A woman, with red hair and dark eyes sat on a carved throne. It was painted with vibrant colors, embellished with glyphs. The stone carvings declared her the Bride of the Jaguar King, Goddess of Fire, Jaguar Queen, and the Sky God Woman. Tsul’Kalu continued his story. “But then there was a season of no rain, and rot set into the crops. These people were hungry. The gods demanded more blood. With no enemies to give, they began to sacrifice the least of their ranks. Slaves, peasants, even warriors gave their lives to appease the gods, but to no avail. There were many who fled north, only to die at the hands of the warring Aztec tribes as their enemies moved south to bring more war, and more bloodshed.”
Then, Lauren could hear the shouts and cries of these people as she found herself on the edge of the darkness. The drummers pounded out a deep cadence she could feel as a heaviness in her core. Her heart raged with equal forte. The tempo raced at a fevered pace.
A bare-chested Aztec warrior was brought to stand before the altar. He had been painted with bright colors to signify his worth to the gods. His hands were tied behind his back. He was a captive. “This warrior defeated 100 men in the battle for Tikal,” the acolyte announced. He projected his voice strong and loud. “When he was taken, he wounded five men in his struggle. He claims to be the son of the Snake King. He is brought hence. We give to the gods what belongs to the gods.”
The priest stepped forward. The drums went silent. The crowd of onlookers settled. Even the jungle seemed to pause and grow deathly quiet. “Man is made from corn and blood, given to us by the gods. As the gods have given life to us, we must give life to the gods.” His voice thundered over the waiting crowd. “This warrior has proven himself worthy. He has taken the lives of our warriors, which tells us he is strong. He has fought many battles, which tells us he is brave. He is the son of a king, which tells us he is noble. He is an enemy of high value and worth, to his own people... and to ours. May the gods welcome this gift that we may see our crops grow tall, and our children taller.”
The priest raised an obsidian blade over his head as the warrior was brought to the altar. He didn’t go willingly. He remained stone-faced and didn’t cry out, or struggle against the ropes as he was laid over the stone table which forced his head back, and his chest up, bowing his body as his hands and feet were lashed to the four stone pegs at each corner of the alter. “Though you have warred in this life, may you find peace in the Great Beyond. Speak well of your enemies. We honor your life in your death.” The blade came down and blood flowed into the stone channels, pooling around the base of the seven stones. Lauren could taste the tang of iron on her tongue.
She flinched when the priest dug open the man’s chest and reached in for his heart, cutting it from his body. He held it up in front of the dying man’s bulging eyes. The warrior gasped, convulsed. His life escaped his body. The sacrifice was finished.
The priest took the throbbing heart over to the raging bonfire in the middle of the circle of stones. He held it up for all to see. The blood ran down his bare arms, down his armpit, and along his side. “O hear me gods of the stars, from whom our lifeblood flows!” He called out. He walked the circle around the fire, presenting the heart to both the crowds and the gods. “Accept this, our gift, and be merciful to our people!” He tossed the quivering heart into the fire, and it ignited. Smoke rose from the flames as it came to lay among the glistening coals. Lauren could hear the flesh sizzling. The awful aroma filled her nose. Her stomach threatened to revolt.
She found herself standing before the fire, watching in awe. She turned and realized no one else could see her. On the rise above the circle, over-looking the scene, sat Tsul’Kalu; his eyes closed. His hands rested on his knees. “What is this?” Lauren asked.
“This is the truth of what you seek,” he answered. “But it is only part of the story.”
Lauren walked over to the woman by the throne. Two warriors had removed her from her place of honor and held her by the wrists. She made no effort to struggle. Lauren studied her. She, like everyone else, was oblivious to Lauren’s presence. “Who is this?” Lauren inspected her more closely. Her green eyes were illuminated by the fire’s glow. In the flickering light, threads of copper shown in her hair that was twisted into a haphazard knot. It was pinned back with what looked like a sharpened bone, decorated with feathers. “She doesn’t look Maya.”
“She’s not,” Tsul’Kalu said. “She is the Fire Goddess. The Jaguar Queen. Sky God Woman.”
“She looks... Anglo. Is she?” Lauren stopped suddenly, remembering the story about the missing woman. “Why are they holding her? They don’t intend to...” Lauren paused, realizing she might be next to face the priest’s blade.
“You must ask her,” Tsul’Kalu said.
Lauren turned back to look at her, studying the woman’s terrified eyes. “But...”
“Call to her.” Tsul’Kalu’s voice came in a whisper from behind her. “Call to her, Truth Seeker.” His voice was a breath, an echo in time. “Speak her name.”
Lauren swallowed hard. She took a deep breath. “Stephanie? Stephanie Wentworth?” The woman’s eyes turned to Lauren, seeing her for the first time. Suddenly the fire popped, and sparks erupted into the sky. The drums began beating feverishly, and the world spun around her.
“Who are you? Where did you come from?” The woman stared at her. A stunned expression overtook her face. Her eyes were wide with fear. The men yanked on her, moving her to the altar.
“I’m like you,” Lauren said, though she wasn’t sure where the words came from. She wasn’t even speaking English. Still, there was comprehension between them. “They will kill you if they see you,” the Jaguar Queen said, looking at the two men holding her. Clearly, she was just as puzzled as Lauren as to why no one else could see this... phantom.
One of the guards turned to the other and shook his head. “She is crazy. She speaks to ghosts.”
“The gods will welcome her all the same,” the other one answered. “They will rain down fire on our enemies, and water for our crops.”
The Jaguar Queen looked back at Lauren, with fear and desperation in her eyes. “They are going to burn my heart. You must leave. Go back where you came from before your heart is consumed by the flames as well.”
“Call her to you, Truth Seeker.” Tsul’Kalu’s voice resonated in her head.
“You must come with me,” Lauren said. “I can save you.”
“No one can save me now.” The Queen looked sad yet stoic at the same time. She looked over at her King, who gazed into the fire, refusing to meet her eye. He had made the decision to sacrifice his bride. Though she seemed to understand, the feeling of betrayal was evident.
Lauren placed a trembling hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I hear your words, but you must do as I say, the Protector waits for you on the other side. Go to him. He will see you safe. Find me in the Other World and we will help you.”
Lauren moved suddenly, using all her strength to slam her fist into one of the guards’ stomach. He buckled as the pain of it resonated down her arm. Lauren turned to the perplexed guard on the other side, bringing up her knee into his groin, elbowing him in the nose as he buckled.
The Fire Goddess stood transfixed, as everyone turned to look at her and the drums stopped. The fire seem to throb even without their beating. Lauren realized this was her one shot at saving the Jaguar Queen.
“Rowan!” Lauren shouted, hoping beyond hope that he could hear her through time and space, then looked back at the woman. “Run! Go to him!”
* * *
Rowan stood alone in the circle of standing stones, gazing up at the clear night sky. Stars blanketed the velvet above him, and he could feel the power of the henge and its magic coursing around him. The moonlit hair on his arms stood as a sudden chill washed through him. His face went hot. Sweat beaded on his brow. He could almost feel the fire that would have burned in front of the altar. He glanced down at his electromagnetic meter, watching the needle sway wildly from one end of the spectrum to the other.
“Rowan!” He glanced up, thinking he’d heard his name in the wind. There was no one around.
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